drums“Wouldn’t the coolest thing now to be to be Japanese, eh?”

Something that seems to flummox many people about me is that I don’t have much interest in music. This might seem odd as anyone who knows me knows that I can’t walk down the street without first plugging headphones in. I like music as much as the next man, and I have my own tastes in it, but I’m not a die hard fan of anyone particularly. I’ve been to perhaps three gigs in my lifetime. I like music, but I don’t own any CDs, I can’t remember the last time I bought an album and I haven’t known what’s number one in the charts for about a decade.

As such, I perhaps didn’t get Toby Litt’s ninth book as much as some others might. I’ve read Litt twice before, with Beatniks and Finding Myself and I think this one ranks currently somewhere in between the two.

It’s a novel, certainly, but actually it’s probably better defined as a series of short stories. They’re all told from the point of view of Clap, the drummer in the band okay (all lower case, in italics) and tell the ups and downs of life in a rock band over twenty years. Along with his bandmates Syph, Crab and Mono, our hero drummer experiences the best and worst that fame, fortune and fans have to offer. The stories are given slightly out of order, and feature such episodes as Syph’s near-fatal overdose, Clap’s introduction and conversion to Buddhism, Mono meeting his wife Major and their joint fondness for fishing, and the suicide of a young fan who killed himself listening to okay‘s first album.

First and foremost, the book is witty and wise. There are lashings of Douglas Coupland in here, with plenty of one liners, some funny and some profound. It’s sad too, shining the torch onto the gritty world of rock and roll and showing that it isn’t all sex and drugs, and the bits that are don’t necessarily seem as cool as you’d imagine when you get a closer look at them. It is a story about people who refuse to grow up, and what happens to them when the universe makes them grow up anwyay.

It wasn’t the easiest read, and I think part of that is simply because I have so little interest in the subject matter, which is unlike me as I’m willing to read pretty much anything. Why did I bother reading it then? Well, valid question. Truth be told, the first book by Litt I read, Finding Myself, was so good and so smart that I guess I now continue to seek out his other work to find something as good as that. Neither book so far has been, but then again they’ve both been heavily about music. However, after a while, details of another tour, another overdose, another girl become boring and run of the mill. Clap is a good narrator and while not exactly someone I’d immediately want to befriend (Mono seems the best of the four bandmates, incidentally), he tells his story with love, tinged with regret, which I guess is how all the best love stories are told.

It’s worth a skim, and Clap’s list of advice to the fans is pretty beautiful (“Don’t mourn your own life”), but if you don’t really care about the music industry, then you might not get that much out of it.